Page 101 of Sugar

It was a good thing I hadn’t started walking because I for sure would’ve busted my ass at that.

Easton: Looks like you’re having a better night than I am, guppy. Where are you?

Me: At a bar, meeting Wren’s boyfriend for the first time. He’s great. Not tyrant levels of great, but definitely better than Greer’s douchey ex who is actually an ex now.

That was probably nonsensical, and he definitely didn’t care about it, but he was nice enough to pretend.

Easton: That’s a shame.

Me: Anyway, sorry for bothering you.

Easton: You’re never a bother, Madeline.

I was tempted to take that reassurance to heart and continue messaging him every little frivolous thought in my head because it made me happy. But even drunken-me knew that was a bad idea. That he was busy with the important client.

But I did allow myself to send one last foolish message.

One I would likely regret but that I couldn’t possibly hold in.

Me: I just wanted to say hi, and I miss you. I’ll let you get back to your night.

I didn’t even care if my honesty came back to bite me in the ass.

Right then, at least.

I returned to the table to see that Wren was practically on Chris’ lap with his arm around her. His focus was on Greer as he askedabout school. At my approach, he looped me into it. “What’s your favorite class, Maddie?”

“You can call me Mads,” I said, deeming him with the highest honor.

“That’s a big deal,” Wren shared, grinning widely from her spot pressed tight to his side.

Wow, they really do make a gorgeous couple.

Chris wasn’t tyrant levels of great, and he also wasn’t tyrant levels of hot. But he was still attractive in a California surfer way, right down to the overgrown ash brown hair. He was surprisingly muscular for a teacher, but since Wren loved to go for hikes and runs, that appreciation for fitness was another thing they had in common.

His grin matched hers. “Okay, Mads. Favorite class?”

I grimaced. “Can I say none?”

“Not to a teacher, you can’t.”

“Okay, then, can I say my school newspaper pitch meetings?”

“You hate those,” Greer refuted.

“I love to hate them. They’re frustrating and competitive, but the reward is totally worth it.”

We talked for a bit more before Wren and Greer’s eyes went huge. A tingle of awareness went up my spine just as a drink was set in front of me.

The drink—the first one I’d been served all night that had cherries and an orange slice—was enough to clue me in on who was behind me.

The familiar woodsy cologne confirmed that conclusion.

The alertness that only he seemed to evoke underscored it.

But I still didn’t believe my eyes or the rest of my senses. I spun on my stool and nearly toppled. I didn’t feel any more grounded when strong hands gripped my hips to keep me upright.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked even as I threw my arms around his neck.